uno amore
by StoryGirl02
Summary: For the Aboard the Love Boat Challenge. In a way, she was glad that he had been late. If he hadn’t, she never would have ducked into that store, and never would have found that parasol; that perfectly purple, delicate parasol.
1. gnomes

**uno amore**

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****Gnomes.**

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The gnomes annoyed her, from their constant-sneering faces, frozen in time, to their plump bodies complete with stumpy legs. They seemed to watch her with blank eyes as she walked, robes swishing madly around her legs, almost tripping her over. Pansy was delighted when other students felt the need to toss one or two into the lake, the only form of stress relief they could have from the constant pressure they were put under. She watched with happiness as their bodies soared through the air, landing with thick splashes into the lake.

Draco felt the need to toss a pair in one day, particularly ugly, his face bruised on his left cheek, the pale skin turning purple. He scowled unhappily, sitting down next to her, and drawing his knees up to his chest. Something was wrong with him, and lines of worry had been etched onto his face, tarnishing the pale skin.

She turned to him; concern sketched on the faint frown lines of her face. Slowly, as if she were afraid he was going to flinch away, she placed her hand on his arm, rubbing soothing circles in his skin. He didn't move, but grunted, tossing his head dramatically over towards where the other students were playing, a blonde-haired girl darting out of her friend's line of fire.

Nothing needed to be said. He will tell her what's wrong later, like he always does. She is his confident, the only one he can run to when things get to tough for him to deal with them on his on. Both were content to remain in silence, perfectly happy with just sitting there.

Pansy hates the gnomes.

But still, she summoned a few tears when a particular favourite of hers was crushed in the battle, its sneering face twisted into a mass of china fragments, so fragile in her fingers.

She doesn't need them anymore.

She had Draco to protect her now.

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**Written for the Aboard the Love Boat Challenge.**


	2. lace

**uno amore **

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_lace_

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The lace tickled her arms as she walked, making her grimace, puckering her lips in annoyance. Her curled black hair flopped over her face, covering her eyes, and her slightly too-big heels clacked on the floor as she paced up and down the hallway. Where was he? Was he even going to turn up, or was he just going to leave her standing here like a god-damn fool, for Merlin's sakes? Had he cowered out of it?

Gods, she was the one who had arranged everything, made sure he had all he needed, made the appointment, organized the other details, and all he had to do was show up, and he couldn't even do that! If he wasn't here in five minutes, their appointment would be cancelled, and she did not want to go through trying to arrange it again.

It had been hard enough the first time.

As she lifted her head, he appeared around the corner, pale finger fumbling with his bow-tie. Pansy let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding, and paced towards him, her shoes clacking on the floor.

The lace irritated her arms, as she stretched up to finish tying his bow-tie. "There," she said, patting his chest, smiling slightly.

Draco looked at her, taking her hand in his. "Thanks."

She shrugged it away, her eyes widening as the door open, and Mr Thomas poked his head around, his eyes glittering at them. "Feel free to come right through," he told them, smiling. "I'll take a while, so just set yourselves up."

Pansy walked through the door, smoothing down her dress. She bit her lip, pulling her fingers through her hair.

Draco stood across from her, their hands encased in each other. He ran his finger over her skin, making her smile softly. She glanced away from his intense gaze, blinking rapidly.

_In five minutes, she was going to be Mrs. Draco Alexander Malfoy._

And that thought scared her more than anything.


	3. pink

**uno amore**

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_pink _

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She hated the colour pink. She hated its texture, the way it shimmered under the light, and most of all, the way it looked on her. It made her figure look drab, and made her features look like they belonged on a fifty-year-old woman. She hated it, so why in the name of Merlin had she worn it?

It was all Draco's fault. If she hadn't been late to Charms, and if she had hadn't have taken a wrong turn on the way to class, she wouldn't have stumbled on an abandoned classroom, and she most definitely wouldn't have heard him say that he adored the colour pink of girls, and that whoever wore it to the Yule Ball would catch his eye.

But of course, someone else had worn it. And that someone else had been Hermione Granger, who – _she had to admit-_ looked fairly respectable, of course, for a mudblood.

She had been the one who had caught Draco's eyes. He had followed her since she had arrived at the ball, hand in hand with Viktor Krum. Pansy knew it her heart that she was the one Draco fancied.

So she left the ball in tears, cursing the colour pink. Her dress lay in tatters on the floor, her mascara smudged into black, wet lines down her cheeks. Pansy sat on her made bed, her knees curled up to her chest, tears making their way onto the covers, leaving a damp patch.

At breakfast next morning, she refused to look at him. He chatted away merrily, barely acknowledging the pain he had caused her. He didn't feel the same way, did he? If he had, he would have told her. Pansy was too drab, too plain, too dumb, too silly for the likes of Draco Malfoy.

But still to this day, she hates the colour pink. And, as fate would have it, she absolutely adores it on her daughter.

Who knew that Pansy Parkinson could have created something so beautiful?

Of course, Draco's genes may have helped.

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	4. parasol

**uno amore**

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_parasol _

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She twirled strands of hair around her fingers as she walked, eyes searching the ground for a blond head of hair. Biting her lips thoughtfully, she ducked into the empty doorway of the nearest shop, heavy bags dragging her arms down.

He wasn't there. It was pretty evident that he had forgotten. Pansy sighed, turning on her pointy black heels, blue eyes closing against the sharp and sudden wind that swept around her.

Something made her stop, something so delicate, so purple, so perfect. Decisive, she turned around, clattering through the store, her hands stretching out to pluck the innocent parasol from where it had stood in its black stand.

Two Galleons later, and it was hers, resting softly in her hands as she examined it. Her mother had owned a parasol once, and had treasured it, with all her already-shattered heart, before it had been burnt to nothing but black ashes, ashes that had been trampled into the ground by the sudden fleeing of the group of Deatheaters.

That wouldn't happen to this one, she swore silently, tucking the parcel in one of her nearly-empty bags, shifting the load around on her arms. A hand reached up to tuck a black curl behind her ear, before she stepped out of the doorway.

And into Draco's chest, the sudden stop making her nearly fall over, stumbling on her heels. He grasped a hold on her arm, pulling her upright, before pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. "I'm sorry that I'm late," he told her, looping her arm through his, the couple making their way through the crowd.

"No need to explain," she said, smiling cheerfully up at him. He returned the favour, tiredly brushing a hand through his messy hair, strands falling over his eyes.

In a way, she was glad that he had been late. If he hadn't, she never would have ducked into that store, and never would have found that parasol; that perfectly purple, delicate parasol.

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**An early update because I won't be here for a few days. Enjoy, and leave your thoughts in a review.**


	5. clouds

**uno amore**

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_clouds_

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With a sharp sigh, she lies down on the muddy ground, hardly caring if her robes are falling into thick patches of mud. She pushes back sweaty strands of black hair away from her eyes, and watches the clouds drift above her.

How can one thing be so perfect in its creation?

She wishes she could touch them, suddenly stretch out and be able to feel the fluffy whiteness portrayed above her, in all of its in-human glory. Why can't she be like the clouds, one moment calm and still, silent, before suddenly changing into grey, harsh, thundering, storming things?

Why can't she possess the courage they so boldly display?

Pansy scoffs, biting hard down on her lip, almost to the point of drawing sticky, red blood. Why does he think he is the best; that he is capable of making all the decisions, that he is always the one that has to right? Why can't she be right for once?

How can she love him, when even after all this time; all she sees is a broken, stumbling man, controlled by his father, unable to do anything that he wants.

She closes her eyes against the non-existent sunlight, hands clasping in her lap, her legs drawn up to her knees. He's gone again, like he always is, barking loud orders over his shoulder at her, hardly sparing a thought; that maybe she doesn't want to do this, doesn't want to be stuck like her mother, stuck in an always-revolving cycle, unable to escape.

She wants to be free, like the clouds, free to do whatever she wants, to go wherever, whenever she deems it necessary. She needs to be free, and wills it with all of her shattered heart.

But she can't. Because that would be abandoning Draco, and even though she'd sure she doesn't love him, there is still something there; something tingling in her stomach, something she isn't able to define.

What _is_ love anyway?

She doesn't know.

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End file.
